


I tried to believe in God and James Dean

by swagbunny



Category: BIGSTAR (Band)
Genre: (some of which may also be spoilers), M/M, a few comparisons made to God, apparently we do warnings in tags, explicit use of cursing, ft. gwangsuk's hit the stage dance crew, ft. hoya of infinite, multiple mentions of food and scents/fragrances, multiple references to literature/movies/music, multiple references to the idea of death, one case of simple battery, one comparison made to Choi Soon Sil, ongoing stuffed animal abuse, that's all folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 07:52:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10532118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swagbunny/pseuds/swagbunny
Summary: Raehwan didn’t feel like himself, nor did he feel like making music. He looked and felt terrible, because he had died last night in his dreams.A fic in which figuring out whether or not Gwangsuk is dating somebody else is complicated, and Raehwan just doesn’t Get It.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [kpopolymfics2017](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/kpopolymfics2017) collection. 



> This fic was written for K-Pop Olymfics 2017. Olymfics is a challenge in which participants write fics based on prompt sets and compete against other teams of writers, organized by genre. 
> 
> This is Team Canon’s fic for the following prompt set:  
>  **Younha ft. Ha:tfelt, Cheetah – "Get It?"**  
> [lyrics](https://colorcodedlyrics.com/2016/06/younha-hatfelt-cheetah-get-it) | [video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aeo_nWsu5cs) | [supplementary](https://www.flickr.com/photos/elle_florio/24594086982/in/gallery-flickr-72157663691204050/) [prompts](http://66.media.tumblr.com/fcb2493d6f87b57e723f8ee42107024e/tumblr_oh3jy3SkNS1v9m0i0o1_500.jpg)
> 
> The other 2 fics for this prompt can be found in [the collection](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/kpopolymfics2017). Competition winners are chosen by the readers, so please rate this fic using [this survey](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSfepQceLVtgprprmgsYtKVopp78ttf-nT3X6PjJ7KR0hE4g9w/viewform)!
> 
> Title is a lyric from Adam Lambert's _Ghost Town._
> 
> The 1955 movie, _Rebel Without a Cause,_ and its characters are referenced many times in the fic. James Dean stars as the character Jim Stark, Sal Mineo as Plato, and Natalie Wood as Judy. The red nebula mentioned in Raehwan's dream is something seen by Plato at the planetarium. The red sock that Raehwan wears is indeed a parallel to Plato's red sock in the movie, as well. Considering the many connections, a summary of the movie might suffice, but I'd highly recommend you watch this classic if you haven't already! (This way you'll feel the ache of James Dean, whom Raehwan aspires to become. Plato is also very important, because this is who Raehwan actually embodies throughout the fic.) 
> 
> Near the end of the fic, I mention the actor, Lee Byung Hun, because of his incredible work in the movie, _Inside Men_ (which is another thing everyone needs to watch!) It's his famous line about Maldives in Mojito that is referenced in Cheetah's rap. Gotta honor the original dude who said it //finger guns 
> 
> Here's my favorite part! How Many Letters of the Alphabet I Can Thank: I need to first and foremost give my thanks to the movie, _The Emperor's New Groove,_ which showed me that I needed to find my groove back. I was a lost little lamb (llama?) in the dark... (William Blake sigh). I want to thank E for being there for me when I was dealing with Personal Stuff. Thank you, S, for giving me a hug without asking why (yodels fondly from a distance). Thank you, N, for your honest feedback after you read my fic. To K, the Raehwan to my Feeldog, thank you for reading my fic and validating my ideas. You make me feel important and loved. To C, be strong, my prince. Thank you for reading my fic as well, I don't know what I'd do without you. Dear W, you've beta-ed so many of my fics, I don't know how to thank you enough for your patience and skill (weeping). To M, I pray with all my heart you get better soon. To P, my Only One friend, who always listens to me babble about my fics and helps me find answers to my questions about Bigstar. Please continue to suffer with me. Also, much love, thanks, shrugs, and hedgehogs to our Captain for being The Greatest Mod To Have Ever Lived. And lastly, I'd like to give a big, big hug to my entire team. You guys are amazing. Don't ever forget that. #teampieflyshywhydie #Bathtubs #Bathtubs #Bathtubs #cheerleaderout

_ghost_town_adam_lambert.mp3_

On this Darling, Clementine-sunny afternoon at Brave Entertainment headquarters, Kim Raehwan discovered he did not feel like himself.

The boys had free reign to decide their own schedules during the off-time, as long as they completed their tasks. (And everyone knew this off-time might last another millennia if Kang Dongchul never got off his ass.) What was different this afternoon in comparison to any other day in the past year of hiatus was the uneasy restlessness Raehwan felt, which had him craving for some kind of mind-numbing, bone-breaking activity. (Like a comeback, maybe.) But, as the resident insomniac who lived by the _Ode of a Nightingale,_ his weariness also made him feel sick of the recording and producing studio he called his third home. It was in this small studio room he had spent many Kafka nights, that the soundproof walls smelled faintly of Hawaiian barbecue pizza and Chanel No. 5. Raehwan was tired of everything, and he was in no mood to play maestro and make a song from scratch. Nor did he have any desire to cover something from another artist, like Taylor Swift or Zayn Malik, his usual go-to favorite singers.

It was as if an Eeyore-shaped cloud hung over his head, and one look at his reflection on his iPhone screen had him scoffing with a whine. The sleep-frosted, red-glazed eyes and that disheveled, tousled fluff of hair, the next best bird’s nest, should have been no surprise. This broody, moody appearance came with the weather as a package, or so he wanted to believe. After all, Birthday-boy Raehwan hated the sunny days with the chilly February air. The coming of spring should have been near, but it was a distant and unreachable future when he dragged his un-socked feet across the wooden floor. He felt like he had died last night in his dreams and came back an ancient ghost bird, bounded by an ominous premonition that his little beating heart was about to suffer through another Jurassic extinction period. The unease magnified when he entered the foyer, where the leader, Oh Gwangsuk, was lounging on the leather sofa. Behind it were two rows of long, rectangular cabinets that served as safekeeping lockers for their personal items.

Raehwan squawked a tired yawn to announce his gloomy presence.

“You’re here.” Gwangsuk’s lifted gaze was fleeting, but he sat up and moved to the left, carefully balancing his Macbook on his thighs with one hand while clutching his iPhone with the other.

Raehwan spotted a single red cotton sock scrunched up and lonely on the floor and pulled it over his left ankle. Where was the sock’s other half? He thought of asking Gwangsuk, but the unease in him turned into irritation. How fast Gwangsuk had resumed texting his friends, Lee Howon and Choi Hyojin, on KakaoTalk. Without a word, Raehwan laid down on Gwangsuk’s lap, his cheekbone meeting the thigh. From Gwangsuk’s body emanated a warmth much like the one steaming out of a fresh bun from the oven. The sinking curve of the leader’s torso snugly cradled the back of Raehwan’s head better than any cushion or pillow he had ever taken rest to, and the soft, whipped marshmallow scent flooded his senses.

“Careful,” Gwangsuk warned. His hand hovered cautiously over his laptop.

“I know.” Raehwan stared at the bright screen that was much too close to his face. The Nike site, which Gwangsuk had briefly perused through for the next model of white shoes, was sitting open on idle. Raehwan delicately moved his right hand to click a new tab. With only his index finger, he had managed to switch the keyboard from Korean to English and painstakingly type “j” and “a” into the Naver search-bar before Gwangsuk took notice and typed in the rest. Raehwan thanked him.

Gwangsuk ruffled Raehwan’s hair. “When the kids arrive, we can leave. I know you’re dying of boredom.”

That was one way to put it. Raehwan had originally considered the uneasy feeling to be loneliness, but it felt too misplaced for it to be simply that. Maybe it was _distrust._

Anyway, before they could wander out into the city to shop and get dinner, Raehwan and Gwangsuk had to make sure they saw Jung Sunghak and Kim Donghyun check in. The last time they didn’t stay to verify the kids coming to practice, the kids had skipped it entirely. Raehwan wished he had the balls the kids had to ditch, but he also knew their boss, Dongchul, would find out one way or another.

Raehwan clicked the mouse-pad on the first photo he saw of James Dean, one that was taken a year before the American actor tragically passed away. It looked like James Dean was squinting at him, judging him with his blue eyes. It wasn’t like Raehwan had never seen or searched up the actor before. James Dean was an icon who spoke to Raehwan on a spiritual level. No one could understand that connection. So Raehwan stared. He squinted back at James Dean, engaging himself in a staring war in which only the person with the most pained and brooding gaze could win. Except Raehwan’s perspective was sideways, considering he lay in Gwangsuk’s lap, and it did not take long for his sight to go blurry.

The colors in the picture began to distort. Blue turned red, white turned black. Raehwan remembered the stellar explosion in that Death dream of his from last night, where he was floating motionless in space. Nebula remnants were streaked and splotched with a sinister, distrusting red like a bloody crime scene. The loud, deafening boom still reverberated painfully in his ears, until all that was left was a shrill, ringing shriek. Raehwan covered his ear with a wince. He recalled the red morphing and pulsating, the color separating strand by strand. Suddenly it reminded him of ice, as if the entire Arctic body of water had whipped him across his face. The red made him feel that. It made him feel the cold, raw abandonment of the void, the quicksand chasm of loneliness and betrayal. This was the uneasy, restless feeling of distrust. The coldness in its masquerade of warmth and love. Had this all been a lie? Had Gwangsuk been lying about everything? Did God know? Did Jimmy?

All Raehwan could think of was how Plato had ducked under the seats, in fear, after the red nebula clouded the planetarium’s dome. Not long after that would the innocent boy’s corpse in his new red jacket be carried away from that same planetarium. The poor boy had always felt so cold. Raehwan pretended his fingers weren’t shaking.

Maybe Plato had the other red sock.

“You’re not gonna fall asleep on me, are you?” Gwangsuk asked, jerking Raehwan out of his trance. “Huh, Coco?” With an affectionate little croon, he booped Raehwan’s nose.

“No,” Raehwan said, voice flat and lifeless. Raehwan closed the lid of Gwangsuk’s laptop and hugged it to his chest, with all the sorryness he could give to Jimmy Dean for seeing and knowing the betrayal of a lie and a cheat, as he turned to get a look at Gwangsuk’s face. Instead, he was met with the back of Gwangsuk’s cellphone. What a view. He could feel Gwangsuk’s fingers weaving through his hair, fingertips tickling his scalp.

Gwangsuk clicked his tongue. “You said that last time and fell asleep on me anyway.”

But last time, the fragrance of whipped marshmallow and shaving cream had been so intoxicating, it lulled Raehwan to sleep. And he had been tired. “Still. Didn’t give you any right to put it on Instagram,” he grumbled.

Gwangsuk set his phone down on the arm of the couch and leaned toward Raehwan’s forehead, making kissy lips and baby noises. “Aigoo, our Raebalri-aegi is upset.”

Raehwan laughed, then sputtered when Gwangsuk’s three dangling necklace chains bumped into his face. He found himself clasping onto them with a loose hold, listening to the pendants clink melodiously against each other. The cross pendant was the only one that glittered in the palm of Raehwan’s hand. He pulled lightly.

Gwangsuk easily yielded, let Raehwan guide him down till his nose then lips dragged a long caress across Raehwan’s forehead with a wet breath.

Raehwan’s eyes fell shut with a tiny little sigh. This was almost all that he wanted in the world. “Kiss me,” Raehwan whispered. _Kiss me, or I join Jimmy at the Boulevard of Broken Dreams._

Gwangsuk’s fingers froze, still entangled in Raehwan’s hair. The warm breath from his mouth had dissipated.

The air grew thick, and Raehwan heard his own heartbeat booming like thunder. This was a test.

At the last moment, Gwangsuk knocked Raehwan’s skull with a curled-up fist. “What are you thinking?” he taunted in a sing-song voice, wiggling his tongue. Gwangsuk gave an obnoxious laugh that had Raehwan clawing at the leader’s face with harmless vengeance.

Raehwan thought he could win this catfight and bury the rejection, until the forces of the universe decided to prove him wrong.

It was Gwangsuk’s phone. The phone was ringing. Gwangsuk grabbed it and rose from the couch, completely forgetting (or blatantly ignoring!) the fact that he had another human being on his lap. Raehwan had tried to sit up, but as Gwangsuk answered, “Youngjun hyung,” his elbow clipped the back of Raehwan’s head.

It was a one-two punch. Raehwan dug his hand into his hair with a pained yelp, and his vision went scarlet. In a daze, he fell backward into the crater of the Gwangsuk-shaped leather angel imprinted on the corner of the sofa. The warmth was fleeting and gone. The cold had set in. He considered chucking Gwangsuk’s laptop at him. But Raehwan could only scowl at the back of Gwangsuk walking out of the room and into the hallway, while talking on the phone, where the light cast down upon him like a spotlight halo.

 

_lane_boy_twenty_one_pilots.mp3_

“Driving me out of _our_ dorm room wasn’t enough for you? Now you have to call me in the middle of the night, just to see if Gwangsuk is over at my place sucking my face off? Are you fucking kidding me?” Lee Youngjun’s low, gravelly voice spilled through the phone on the opposite line.

Raehwan sighed. He sure wished it were a joke. Unfortunately, the plausibility of everything Gwangsuk had said and done was no laughing matter. Raehwan sat on the edge of his creaking bed in the darkness, right leg over the other, glancing at the silhouette of the empty mattress next to the door. That was Youngjun’s bed before he had left many months ago. Raehwan remembered helping the eldest member pack his clothes and jewelry that day. Only one of them had known that that would be the last time Youngjun would ever step foot in the dorm again.

Before Youngjun had made his leave, he had lingered by the doorway of their room, face ashen from the unbearable pain of his chronic back injury. Youngjun was no longer the man Raehwan knew. The one who was mentally checked in with everyone else, the one who illuminated the kids with his genius in dance choreography and trivial information, the one who made it rain money. He had become the man who made Raehwan promise to watch over the kids. Most of all, to never hurt them. “Otherwise, I won’t be the only one who needs surgery,” Youngjun had threatened Raehwan. “Mark my fucking words.”

Youngjun had been right. Raehwan instinctively reached for his throat, remembering the ache before and after his _own_ surgery. He supposed he hadn’t done what Youngjun had asked, and feared so ardently at the time that he had caged himself, singing voice to be ripped out as a result of divine punishment. Thus, ironically, Raehwan’s throat surgery took place months after Youngjun had packed up and left for Busan, leaving behind the echoes of his doomed words and presence like an elephant in the room. Raehwan swallowed hard. He should ask Youngjun, now that he had him on the phone, if his back surgery had gone okay. But Raehwan didn’t. He couldn’t.

Raehwan sometimes couldn’t sleep at night, hallucinating a whisper much like Youngjun’s, in these words: “Whose heart will you break? Yours or his?” And then softly, “Don’t hurt him. You promised.”

He picked up Gwangsuk’s Kermit the Frog plushy off the floor by its neck. Raehwan had no idea how Gwangsuk had come to have possession of it over the years, but he knew the plushy saw things that no one else did and understood Gwangsuk’s innermost secrets, ones that even Youngjun didn’t know about. If only Kermit the Frog could speak.

“I’m hanging up,” Youngjun warned after the long silence.

“Don’t. Not yet. You need to answer me,” Raehwan said. He would have to pat himself on the back for the amount of impatience he contained to himself.

“Sure.”

“Gwangsuk isn’t back yet, and I don’t know where he is.”

Youngjun snorted. “Dude, just stay in your fucking lane. Gwangsuk is a responsible twenty-five year old man, who also happens to be the leader of a group he cares very much about. He’s not gonna fuck around. Especially not with an insecure and jealous coward like you.”

Raehwan’s grip around Kermit’s neck tightened. “It was a simple “yes” or “no” question. Do you know where he is?”

Youngjun ignored him. “Hey, y’know, we used to share the same room for years. Which means I’ve got a pretty good idea of what you might be thinking about.”

Raehwan rolled his eyes.

“Just ‘cause Gwangsuk won’t sex it up with you doesn’t mean he’d rather do it with somebody else. Plus, knowing where he is won’t give you shit. It won’t give you his mistresses, if that’s what you’re looking for, ‘cause you and I both know his mistresses are Work and Art. Believe me, I’ve known Gwangsuk since his potty-training days. That’s all there is to him.”

Raehwan pierced the plushy with his nails. “Answer the question, will you.”

“No, okay. I don’t know and I don’t give a fuck where he is.” Youngjun sounded exasperated.

“Can you find out?”

“Nope.”

“Bullshit, hyung. You could do better.”

Youngjun scoffed. “You know what’s really scary, Kim Raehwan-sshi?”

“What?”

“You trust me way more than you trust him. And I don’t think that’s a good thing.”

 

_(all_along_the)_watchtower_devlin_ft_ed_sheeran_(instrumental).mp3_

“So, uh…” Donghyun blinked suspiciously at Raehwan. He stirred the spoon in his hot chocolate, listening to its dull clinks against the mug. “You want information about Gwangsuk hyung’s whereabouts?”

Raehwan nodded. “Yes. Where he might be. Who he’s been with. What he’s doing. Did he say anything to you?”

Donghyun sucked in his lower lip. Maybe he knew something, maybe he didn’t, but there were hints of a little clairvoyant frown flickering at the corners of his mouth. Donghyun stared intently at the swirling, Atlantis-shaped foam island on the surface of his steaming drink, like it were the most fascinating thing in the world. He and Raehwan were sitting across from each other, tucked in the corner of a posh coffee shop somewhere in Seoul. It had been Raehwan’s idea to come here in the first place.

Why didn’t Raehwan take Gwangsuk? Why did he drag Donghyun out to this café instead? These were questions Raehwan figured Donghyun had a burning curiosity to ask. They both knew that Gwangsuk would’ve said “yes” to Raehwan in a heartbeat. And had Gwangsuk accompanied Raehwan, this small rectangular table for two, rocking unevenly on the floor, would’ve been perfect for them to play a game of footsie to kill the time. Insert the tune of _Unchained Melody_ into the background and a shower of glittery sparkles raining down. Linked hands and high blushing smiles. Red hearts throbbing in their enamored gazes. Doogeun. Doogeun.

Raehwan scratched the record and tore the lovey-dovey vision apart. He had grown tired of playing footsie with Gwangsuk. He swore to himself that he’d never take Gwangsuk with him, not when Gwangsuk clearly preferred the company of other people whose names were specifically not Kim Raehwan. Which was fine by Raehwan. Besides, _he_ preferred bringing along the kids. (For interrogations regarding the topic of a certain Oh Gwangsuk, maybe.)

The aroma of coffee bean and vanilla wafted in the air then. Raehwan had been nodding and swaying his head, mouthing the lyrics to Zayn Malik and Taylor Swift’s _I Don’t Wanna Live Forever_ playing in the background. He might have seemed so blissfully distant and faraway, but he noticed Donghyun think twice about pulling him out of his reverie.

Donghyun finally cleared his throat. “Did something happen between the two of you?”

Raehwan shrugged nonchalantly. “Nothing happened.”

“Okay… then uh… why are you policing him?” Donghyun drowned the foam island into the hot chocolate, clanging the spoon to the bottom of the cup.

“ _Baby, baby, I feel crazy”_ was the last lyric he sang voicelessly before the song fizzled down to silence inside Raehwan’s mind. He found himself glaring at his lap, wringing the hemline of his sweater with his fists, half expecting the red dye to spray on and drip down his jeaned thigh. So this would take some explaining to do. The dream. The horrible feeling. He couldn’t look at Gwangsuk without thinking Gwangsuk had another story. Another person. The way Gwangsuk had left him there on the sofa feeling at a loss, the way Gwangsuk had instantly forgotten about him to answer whoever it was. Raehwan felt overwhelmed and confused, suddenly unsure of how to explain anything, like wanting the truth, without being seized by doubt. What did come out of his mouth was a cryptic, “I phoned him.” He could see question marks in Donghyun’s eyes. Who was _“him”?_ “Youngjun hyung,” he elaborated.

Donghyun’s jaw dropped. No one, not even Gwangsuk, had talked to Youngjun in ages, not since he left. “He answered _your_ call? What’d he say?”

“Youngjun hyung said he hadn’t talked to Gwangsuk. But I heard Gwangsuk answering a call to him the day before yesterday!” Raehwan exclaimed with a thumping fist against the rickety table. The hot chocolate spilled, and Donghyun quickly grabbed a handful of tissue papers to wipe it down.

Donghyun frowned. “How do you know it was _Baram_ hyung?”

This was a no-brainer. “Gwangsuk literally said, “Youngjun hyung” when he answered the phone.”

Donghyun’s face visibly deflated and his shoulders went slack. “Um, hyung, there’s gotta be hundreds, if not thousands, of Youngjun hyungs in South Korea. It could’ve been anyone. And you know Gwangsuk hyung’s friends with a _lot_ of people.”

“No!” Raehwan shook his head adamantly. “No, you don’t understand! It had to be Baram hyung. There _is_ no one else!” Or was there?

Donghyun sighed. “I don’t know if you’re hearing yourself, hyung, but you sound, um, almost crazy.”

“You’re right, I must be crazy,” Raehwan snapped.

“Don’t be angry, hyung.”

“I’m not.”

“I just… uh, don’t get why you’re so hung up about this. So what if Gwangsuk hyung did or did not talk to Youngjun hyung? What would that change? Would Youngjun hyung return to Bigstar? Will we comeback sooner? These are things that I, uh, worry about. Shouldn’t you?”

Raehwan grew quiet.

“I don’t get you, man. And believe me, I try to.”

“You don’t understand,” Raehwan repeated in a meek voice.

“Maybe I never will,” Donghyun conceded. “But have you tried to talk to Gwangsuk hyung at all?”

 

_dirty_laundry_all_time_low.mp3_

In his bedroom, Raehwan bolted awake to the sound of a glorifying, operatic shout all the way down from the kitchen. It must have been Sunghak’s lucky afternoon.

The thing about Sunghak was that he’d probably win Most Likely to Break Into Song (And Dance) in the superlative section of the yearbook, had there been one, back when he was still in school. And especially on lucky days for Jung Sunghak, everyone became minor characters in his impromptu musical. Literally.

Raehwan stuck his head out the door. “Shut up!” he yelled. He was scolding a wall. The kids rarely ever listened to him the first time. Or the second time, for that matter. And the third. Fourth. Fifth. Sixth. Raehwan sighed miserably.

“You shut up!” Sunghak cackled with glee. He switched from singing opera to some of the classics, like a very dynamic, sentient jukebox. His voice shook every time he pounded his chest with pride.

Raehwan stormed down to the living room, where he found Donghyun lying on the floor, staring at his phone overhead. “What is he singing for?”

“Oh, uh--” Donghyun began, but his phone slipped out of his hands and fell right on his face.

It was almost as if Sunghak had some kind of superhuman ability to see what had happened to Donghyun, despite the fact that he was waltzing around, room to room, with a laundry basket in his arms. He shrieked with laughter.

“Jude!” Raehwan was at Donghyun’s side. “You okay?”

Donghyun gave a dazed nod.

Raehwan patted Donghyun’s hair, squinting at the twirling Sunghak. “Is he drunk?”

“Nah,” Donghyun spoke once he recovered. His face had turned red from the shock of pain, though. “Sunwoo sunbae-nim got him tickets to go see Cristiano Ronaldo. So now Sunghak hyung and his friends are gonna go to Spain, like next week, or something.”

Raehwan facepalmed. He should’ve guessed. “You know, I was trying to take a nap and…” he trailed off with a defeated whine. He had no idea why he was complaining to the youngest member. It wasn’t like Donghyun could do much to stop Sunghak from being happy. Why was that a bad thing?

“Hyung? You look kinda pissed,” Donghyun observed. He sat up, massaging his face gingerly.

“What?” Raehwan stroked his hair out of his eyes. “No, it’s just…”

Sunghak belted out the lyrics of _Can’t Take My Eyes Off You,_ just as he frolicked and pranced out of his room with the basket half full.

Raehwan preferred half empty. “Where is Gwangsuk?” he asked.

Donghyun scrunched half of his face. “Uh… not here.”

With a stuttering breath, Raehwan’s fingers curled into his palms. Everything was fine. Everything was--

“ _At long last love has arrived! And I thank God I’m al--”_

“I’ll take that,” Raehwan interrupted, as he wrenched the basket of dirty laundry out of Sunghak’s hands. The shock of his forceful move made Sunghak flinch and halt in mid-verse, shimmering eyes blinking dumbfoundedly and bright smile sliding off his face.

Sunghak stared at him with furrowed brows as Raehwan hobbled into the laundry room, hefting the basket up on his waist for support. Raehwan clearly wasn’t used to carrying the burden like Sunghak was.

Raehwan attempted to sort through the clothing. He balled up shirts and tossed them into the mouth of the washing machine, well aware that Sunghak was still gawking at him.

“What is up with you?” Sunghak questioned.

Here came the interrogation. Raehwan rolled his eyes.

Sunghak leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms, biceps flexing. “I know you have your mood swings, and we usually try to get off your case--”

Raehwan shot him down with a glare.

“I said _usually!”_ Sunghak interjected. “But this week… you’ve been edgy, hyung.”

“So?”

“So, hyung, not to be out of line or anything like _someone else_ has been this entire week, could you maybe take it easy? Stop yelling at everyone who can’t tell you where Gwangsuk hyung has been or what Gwangsuk hyung is doing. Leave him alone, and spare us from your drama.”

Raehwan could feel the blood rising to his face. “I didn’t ask you to mother me.”

Sunghak huffed. “I might as well be your mom! I do everything around here, from cooking to doing laundry to cleaning after you guys. And despite everything I do for everyone, I’m the least appreciated!” he complained, indignant hand on his chest. Sunghak gave Raehwan a scrutinizing look from head to toe. “Guess you’ve done enough wrong this week to feel guilty, to feel the need to repent by doing laundry for once. What else are you gonna do? Cook dinner for us?”

Raehwan clenched a shaking fist around Gwangsuk’s red shirt. No one understood him, and he was getting _really_ tired of it. “You know what?” Raehwan retorted icily. “I’ve been having a bad week, and you want me to apologize? Okay. I’m sorry I act like the High Queen Bitch, but I don’t think I could change. You want me to feel guilty? Easy. Done. I’m sure everyone would benefit if I just left like Youngjun hyung did. Right? I could do that, or you could get out of my face,” Raehwan spat out. He heaved from the bottom of his lungs a harsh sigh, and he could feel the veins on his neck pulsing hot. His ears were burning. But being half sarcastic and half self-deprecating was not enough for him. He felt the singe of Sunghak’s grilling stare right to the very core of himself, like as if nothing he’d said had mattered. In another life, he must’ve been Prince Hamlet. Woe to him, but he smiled cynically. “No, I get it. You wanna call me fucking crazy?” Raehwan taunted. “Do it.”

Sunghak didn’t miss a beat. “Crazy bastard.”

“ _Yah!”_ Raehwan exploded with a tea-kettle scream. Sunghak winced in fear. “If you can’t shut up for a fucking minute, why don’t you go suck on a turtle’s dick!” he shouted at Sunghak’s hurt and confused face.

Donghyun tiptoed over from out of earshot and tugged twice on the sleeve of Sunghak’s shirt. “Let’s go, hyung.” To Donghyun’s dismay, Sunghak was unmoved by his plea.

“Wow,” Sunghak said bitterly, eyes trained on Raehwan. “Punch me in the face while you’re at it.”

Raehwan obliged. He swung his fist right into Sunghak’s cheekbone.

“Hyung!” Donghyun yelped.

Sunghak staggered backwards with a startled cry, hands clapped over his face. Donghyun tended to him immediately, but Sunghak had a wounded look in his watery eyes that compelled Raehwan to stay rooted in his spot the whole time, listening to every gasp of Sunghak’s pain.

“Jesus Christ…” Donghyun uttered quietly. He carefully tilted Sunghak’s chin to examine the reddish-purple bruise swelling on the high arch of Sunghak’s left cheek.

Raehwan’s heart sank right into his stomach. He couldn’t help his morbid curiosity to glance at his right fist which he threw at Sunghak. His fingers trembled uncontrollably. His breaths were hoarse, and he felt lightheaded. It was red. Everything was red.

“You actually did it,” Sunghak mumbled in disbelief. “You actually meant every word you said. Why… Why would you say something like that to me?” He was shaken, but he refused to budge when Donghyun tried to shuffle him out of Raehwan’s sight.

"Come on, hyung," Donghyun urged him. “Let’s go! You need ice for that.”

Sunghak disagreed. “I have to know why.”

Raehwan’s lips quivered. His mind was swirling too fast for him to make out the right answer. Or maybe there had never been one.

“Fine, then, I’ll explain.” Donghyun shut his eyes with an exasperated sigh. “So about the turtle...” he gestured vaguely in the air.

Sunghak looked at Raehwan, who averted his gaze out of shame, then back to Donghyun whose face was suddenly as red as a tomato.

“It’s from that time you, uh… um…” Donghyun hesitated and bit down the urge to laugh. “That time when, uh, you imitated an orgasming turtle. You didn’t even know.”

It must’ve hit Sunghak instantly, because he then began to laugh in denial. “You mean that turtle video? That was-- I did no such thing! I would’ve known if I--” Sunghak swatted Donghyun’s attempt to calm him down. “I see how it is!” he yelled at Raehwan. “Now that you’re in control, how do you feel? Oh, wait--” A eerie realization had slowly dawned upon Sunghak’s face. Raehwan could hurt him or anyone else, but Sunghak knew Raehwan would still feel the most hurt in the end.

Donghyun had managed to drag Sunghak away from the doorway. He had a bad feeling Sunghak might say something else that was worthy of a heavy blow to the face.

“Are you sure you wanna do the laundry?” Sunghak called out. He resisted Donghyun’s protest to hush up already. “I don’t think your heart could take it! You couldn’t even ask Gwangsuk hyung, face to face, why he goes to where he goes for whom--”

Raehwan slammed the door to the laundry room, but he still heard Sunghak’s muffled yelling. “You’ve known this whole time, hyung! What other truth are you looking for? _You_ need to stop thinking so hard!”

The truth? No, he did not know. He did not. Raehwan swallowed the urge to sob pitifully.

He still had Gwangsuk’s red shirt in his left fist. He uncurled his fingers to smoothen the wrinkles he had caused out of short temper earlier. Hot, prickly tears began to well up in his eyes. He ran his fingers over the creases and the stitching, the nail of his forefinger catching the edge of each and every button down the front. Raehwan reminisced the scent of Gwangsuk near him, the cradle of the soft, whipped marshmallow. He delicately brought the collar to his face with a soft inhale, expecting the fragrance to lull him into comfort. He missed it sorely. Instead, he caught a whiff of stale sweat and a searing burn of jasmine and sandalwood. Raehwan jerked back as if it were a punch to the gut, dropping the crumpled shirt to the floor. He felt the hot tears stream down fast. The blur of the red, the _unfamiliarity_ of it. The betrayal. He had _no idea_ what that was.

That wasn’t Gwangsuk. That was somebody else.

 

_power_ &_control_marina_and_the_diamonds.mp3_

Raehwan meticulously positioned Kermit against the bathroom mirror and stepped back to observe his work. Stubborn as the gravity was, Kermit kept slipping down toward the sink; but it would have to do for a setting such as this dim, unlit bathroom. Raehwan preferred the dark. It helped him pretend that the scarlet Delacroix lipstick painted heavily on his lips was a part of him, even if it didn’t feel like it. Judy in her crimson dress had pulled off this shade of red far better than he could. His greatest vanity was the Chanel No. 5 he had dusted lightly on his neck and wrists. With that pretentious air, he took perch on the bathtub edge in front of the sink, crossing his legs and placing his hands on either side of his thighs to lean back and stare at Kermit. One lick of his lips tainted his whole mouth with the sickeningly sweet taste of wax. Vague cherry or something.

“How do I look, Kermit?” Raehwan tilted his head and gave a sultry look at the plushy, with a half-lidded leer and duck pout. "Do you think I look... beautiful?”

Kermit stared lifelessly at him.

With a finger, Raehwan twisted a smooth, dark lock of his shoulder-length wig. “Pretty? No? Anything like Gwangsuk’s ideal type at all?”

Kermit had no answer for him.

Raehwan glowered. “That’s fine. You’re right. I’m nothing close to his ideal type. He changes it at whim, in every other interview we have. I guess he really likes to lead everyone on. Keep them on their toes. But I’m loyal. I’ve unconditionally promised that I’d date him if I were a girl. But he never reciprocates. He never chooses me, in return.

“Nor am I a girl. So I guess I could never date him.”

Kermit slipped down an inch.

“But it hurts me even more to think that we still had something. I've had many of my firsts with him. My first “Sorry,” my first “Thank you,” and my first “I love you.” But I don't think he loves me as much I do him."

Raehwan ducked his head, the wig's hair falling into his eyes and mouth. He dragged a hand across his face, smearing the strands with a long, miserable sigh. "I must be fucking crazy. Talking to a stuffed animal.

"But--" Raehwan looked up, glaring at Kermit. "I _know_ you're Gwangsuk's most trusted confidant. You've heard things that no one else has. You give him advice." Raehwan uncrossed his legs and dug an elbow into his thigh to rest his cheek in the palm of his hand. To himself, he muttered, "I cannot possibly fathom why Gwangsuk would trust you of all inanimate objects. You're his Choi Soon Sil."

Kermit abruptly fell into the sink bowl with a dull _thunk._

"Or maybe you're an extension of Gwangsuk's soul in Kermit form. I don't know." Raehwan stood from his place and retrieved Kermit from the damp sink. "How about you cooperate with me, hmm?" Raehwan squeezed Kermit's small body in his hand. Without much care, he dropped Kermit beside the sink, long limbs tangled against the granite surface. Raehwan returned to his spot on the ledge of the bathtub.

"Ready, Kermit? You're about to be drilled with questions by your hottest love interest." Raehwan paused, rubbing his lips together. "If Gwangsuk is Kermit, would that make me Miss Piggy? How about that, Kermit the Frog? Would you fancy that? I know I'm not the pretty blonde you imagined, but I'll be just as good." Raehwan blinked prettily. Considering Kermit was lying face-flat next to the sink, this did not supply for the attentive audience he was looking for. Raehwan combed some stray strands out of his face and grabbed Kermit. Raehwan clenched his fingers so tightly his knuckles must've turned white. "Listen here, you fucker. What kind of relationship do we have?

"Do you love me?"

Kermit was silent as ever.

"Maybe I’m asking the wrong question.” Raehwan glanced at his reflection in the mirror. “People think I’m so insecure and jealous because I’m neither talented nor sociable as you. You’ve got your toe dipped in every famous celebrity pool, and you’re naturally good at befriending everyone. You’re the kind of guy girls would really like. Why the hell would I not feel jealous?

“You know I don’t make friends easily. Most of the friends I have,” Raehwan scoffed, “were actually your friends to begin with. And you’re close with everyone. _Too_ close. It would be hard for anyone to not like you. Fall in love with you, even.

“And while you may be friends with everyone, I don’t think you love everyone the same. No. You’re close to me, but something has always held you back. Almost as if...” Raehwan shrugged his shoulders, “you love someone even more than you love me.

“Is that true?”

Raehwan shook Kermit. “I said, is that true?” Kermit was speechless. “Answer me!” Raehwan shouted at the plushy. “Answer me, you piece of shit! Are you cheating on me?!”

With one hand Raehwan gripped Kermit’s body and with the other, he grabbed Kermit’s head and twisted it with rage. “Fucking answer me!” he yelled. “You owe me so much, Oh Gwangsuk. You don’t get to be where you are now, basking in glory, pampered with love, and glowing in health, without my help! You don’t get to be successful while I’m in this bathroom screaming at a goddamn stuffed animal! No! You don’t get to play with my heart and feelings. You don’t get to make this whole thing a fucking game!” Raehwan clutched Kermit’s arm and began swinging the plushy violently, smacking it across the sink and the bathtub. “No, if you think you’re the Gingerbread Man, or some kind of fish I have to catch--”

Raehwan lost control, and the toy went flying. It bounced off the tiled wall and landed in the bathtub pathetically. “Think again, Oh Gwangsuk-sshi,” he said, out of breath. He stepped inside the tub and gathered the limp body of Kermit the Frog. “I get to decide the rules, and I’ll make you regret everything you’ve done to me. You can cheat behind my back, lie to me, pretend you’re innocent, and call me fucking crazy if you like, but I’ve got you now.” Raehwan chucked Kermit on the floor of the bathtub and suffocated the poor thing with his overbearing foot. “I smelled her perfume on your shirt. You bet I can see everything, too. Just like God.” Raehwan smirked. “I _am_ God. Oh, don’t be scared. I’m not angry right now. Not yet. This isn’t my worst, but if you keep at it, you’ll see.”

There was a sudden, sharp knock on the door. Raehwan flinched and yanked the shower curtain for cover. “What?” he called out.

“Sijosae hyung!” came Donghyun’s muffled voice. “What are you doing in there? Who are you talking to?”

“I’m--” Raehwan removed his foot off the plushy and cursed silently. “Taking a shower!” Raehwan swiped the curtain back and leapt out of the bathtub before leaning down to turn the knob. Cold water sprayed from the showerhead in a matter of seconds, drowning out Donghyun’s voice.

“I’m sorry,” Raehwan whispered, gazing at the toy. Donghyun’s voice had jerked him out of his crazed act, plunging him back into the cold reality. So cold was it that the goosebumps rose on the back of his arms, and he pierced crescent moons on his skin with his nails to ignore it. The guilt seeped in. It made his hands shake, itch for something like the life of the innocent. His heart was bare and bleeding from the accusations he had made. He was a trainwreck. How Raehwan wished he could rewind time backwards, or press Control Z enough times to undo everything. Once he got far enough back into time, he paused-- Gwangsuk’s cross pendant spinning in the air flashed before him, glinting in the light. It jolted him awake, and he knew what to do. He had to beg. He pulled back the wig and tossed it in the small bin sitting next the toilet. Kermit lay inside the shallow pool of water collecting at the bottom of the tub Raehwan now called The White Casket. The water droplets pelted at the plushy relentlessly.

Something tugged painfully at Raehwan’s chest, and a single tear trickled down his cheek. He didn’t realize the frown on his face, nor did it register to him that he had joined Kermit in the shower until the water came raining down upon him. His hair was plastered to his forehead as water diamonds dripped from his eyelashes, then traveled down his hollowed-in cheeks like tears. His clothing was drenched to the bone, stuck to him like another skin. Raehwan then crouched down at the feet of the drowning frog and got on his knees. As waterfalls spilled from the palms of his hands, he tilted his head back and uttered: “Lord Almighty, forgive me for my sins. I beg you for mercy--”

“Are you praying?” It was Sunghak shouting through the door.

Raehwan clenched his eyes tighter and tried to ignore Donghyun and Sunghak outside. It was difficult to tune out their ruckus against the bathroom door even through the cacophony of water showering down on him.

He was so cold and alone. It had never hurt this much before. Not like this.

“If he loves me, guide him back. I miss him,” Raehwan whispered hoarsely. He could feel himself unravel. The strength in him, fleeting. “Please.”

The longer Raehwan kneeled in the middle of the bathtub, the more stupid he felt. What the hell was he waiting for? Some kind of miracle? He wasn’t even religious. He should have given up years ago when he first saw Gwangsuk and Youngjun share that pepero stick like the camera and their surroundings had faded away. He should have given up when Gwangsuk went to the Han River with Ahn Sumin, the picture perfect couple at the picture perfect dating spot. He should have given up when Gwangsuk and Lee Yoojung flirted their way a dance for the round of Love at _Hit The Stage._

Who was he kidding? He never had a chance. While his arms and hands were still raised in prayer, his palms curled into fists. Raehwan was not angry. He was not.

He was not.

“Raehwan-ah?”

Great, now he was imagining Gwangsuk’s voice.

Light flooded the bathroom, and Raehwan’s eyes flew open. He gasped in disbelief, part of a laugh stuck in his throat.

“Raehwan?”

Raehwan relished the sound of Gwangsuk, the concern blanketed by the huskiness of his comforting voice. Raehwan’s heart pounded so loudly, so painfully, his hands fell over his chest. The anxiety of the wait. The anticipation. The relief.

“May I?” Gwangsuk asked.

“Please.” Raehwan didn’t care how desperate he sounded. He stared and stared and stared at the shower curtain. Wondered for the briefest moment if this could be some horrible, cruel joke. He was shivering, but he felt hot, burning hot.

Gwangsuk pulled the curtain an inch with a finger, peeking. “Oh, Kim Raehwan,” he murmured with such a sadness. “Why are you still in your clothes?”

Agony squeezed Raehwan’s chest. He could barely hold himself together with every gasping breath. “It’s so-- c-cold,” Raehwan stammered, voice broken soft.

The curtain was slid down to the other end. Gwangsuk helped Raehwan up from his knees and took Raehwan into his arms, all sopping wet.

“Gwangsuk-ah,” Raehwan whispered with such sacred gravity. He nudged his damp cheek against Gwangsuk’s neck, melting into every valley of Gwangsuk’s warm, oversized sweatshirt. Whipped marshmallow. Raehwan whined pitifully.

Gwangsuk’s “Wae, wae?” faded into the loud rush of the shower behind Raehwan.

_What’s wrong?_ Gwangsuk had asked. Everything. And nothing at the same time. So taken was he that an anguished sob seized Raehwan by the throat. His fingertips dug into Gwangsuk’s red sweatshirt, and he twisted bunches of fleece in his fists, pulling and tugging hard. Smothered his crying face into the folds of Gwangsuk’s hood. It was not enough. He was shaking hard, teeth clattering. He yearned so achingly for so much more, he had forgotten that with a step forward, he’d stub his toe against the barrier of the bathtub. Cut short. Short-changed. He did this, to himself. Never had he felt such resignation and defeat, so sunken to the despair of a love lost that he never had. It was like beach sand that had slipped through his fingers.

Even after Gwangsuk carried him out of The White Casket, Raehwan buried himself with a devastated cry.

He wept because it would not last.

 

_jealous_nick_jonas_ft_tinashe_(remix).mp3_

“Where are you going?” Raehwan asked as he pulled out an earbud. He had been relaxing on the floor of their living room, listening to the playlist on his iPhone.

Gwangsuk thoughtfully juggled three bunched-up sweatshirts with his hands. There was almost nothing this boy couldn’t do.

Raehwan stopped Gwangsuk at the doorway. He was planted there bodily blocking Gwangsuk with his fingers clinging to the doorframe and his legs outstretched like a seastar, like a Colossus as he stood over the Bruno Mars sized man.

“Dinner,” Gwangsuk said simply, and carefully ducked under Raehwan’s arm.

Raehwan spun around. “With whom?”

“Yoojungie.”

“Yoojung _ie?”_

“Uhuh. Wanna come with?”

Raehwan pursed his lips innocently. “I didn’t ask.”

“Look at your face, Hongje-dong.”

“Does my handsomeness ask questions, now?”

“Apparently it answers some, too,” Gwangsuk whispered into Raehwan’s ear, tracing the back of his finger down Raehwan’s jawline. He placed Raehwan’s hanging earbud into his own ear.

Raehwan shivered from the warmth that sunk low into his gut. “I don’t think I should go.”

“Are you sure?” Gwangsuk asked. He blinked prettily at Raehwan. ““ _Still get jealouuus”_?” he sang along to the tune of the current song playing.

Raehwan gaped and ripped the earbud out of Gwangsuk’s hand.

“I prefer your version, Larry.” Gwangsuk brushed a few stray, fluffy strands out of Raehwan’s eyes and fingered the tangled wire of Raehwan’s earbuds. “Nick Jonas is alright, but you make it sound _real.”_

Raehwan averted his eyes, nursing the rosy blush with his knuckles. With a soft voice, he said, “Thanks.”

“Aigoo,” Gwangsuk crooned fondly. He smushed Raehwan’s red cheeks, got on his toes and nipped Raehwan’s neck with a teasing bite.

“Gwangsuk!” Raehwan shrieked and stumbled backward into the wall with a high laugh. He brought Gwangsuk with him, hooked Gwangsuk’s collar in and returned the love bite on the neck, with a hot breath over the vein.

“Fuck,” Gwangsuk giggled deliciously. They wrestled for the leverage, until he surrendered to Raehwan’s wet kisses mapping his cheekbone. “Larry-- That’s my eye-- Fucking--” Gwangsuk swatted Raehwan with a laugh and guided Raehwan’s arms around his lower back. He lovingly crushed his cheek just above Raehwan’s beating heart.

Raehwan blinked back tears, suddenly overcome by the warmth blooming in his chest. He braided his fingers with Gwangsuk’s and sighed. If only they could stay like this forever. Raehwan nosed Gwangsuk’s soft, dark hair, inhaling the saltiness with a faint floral note. Probably hadn’t washed his hair yesterday. Of course Gwangsuk hadn’t. With a smitten smile, Raehwan combed Gwangsuk’s fringe back and kissed the crown of his head.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Gwangsuk said lightly. “Or what you’ve been thinking lately since The Bathtub Incident.”

Raehwan was silent. The smile on his face had wavered.

“Which is why I think you should come to the dinner.”

Raehwan didn’t think Gwangsuk had heard a single word from that deranged bathroom soliloquy several days ago. He swallowed. “Did… did you hear me?”

“I want you to see,” Gwangsuk spoke, almost as if he _knew,_ saw right through Raehwan’s insecurities and worst fears. The jealousy. Everything Raehwan had confessed to Kermit--

Raehwan’s eyes widened. Kermit. Kermit must have told Gwangsuk _everything._ Fuck. He was so stupid! He had given himself away just like that, peeled the layers back to reveal his vulnerabilities.

“Yah,” Gwangsuk snapped his fingers in Raehwan’s face, “are you listening?”

Stuffed animals don’t talk. Right. Raehwan nodded.

“You should see for yourself, alright? But I don’t want you to go to the dinner just to--” Gwangsuk made a face. “Bitch and whine. Got it?”

“I get it,” Raehwan said. “I won’t, I promise.”

 

_when_your_lover_has_gone_billie_holiday.mp3_

“Do you think anyone will notice my socks?” Raehwan asked with worry, pausing in the middle of the sidewalk to glance down at his ankles.

Gwangsuk shook his head. “Not if I tell them.”

Raehwan shoved him, only to hear Gwangsuk laugh.

“Relax, Hongje-dong. No one’s gonna notice. But this has gotta be the third time you’re wearing that red sock, though. Where’s your mind at?”

Raehwan bit his lip. “Sunghak stole all my socks because I “socked” him in the face. Since then, every time I need them I’ve had to make bargains with him, and he won’t give me matching socks!”

Gwangsuk clicked his tongue. “Whenever I’m out, you two are always bumping heads.”

“Might be helpful if you did less of those disappearing acts,” Raehwan muttered, throwing half-hearted jazz hands with an eye-roll.

“Kim Raehwan-sshi,” Gwangsuk began, as he stopped in front of the restaurant’s doors, “you are Sunghak’s hyung. I expected you to be the sensible one. What will Donghyun learn from this? That violence is the answer?”

Raehwan’s gaze was crestfallen. “Johnny’ll be fine. But that’s not the point here.”

Gwangsuk crossed his arms. “Agreed. We’ll talk about this later.”

Raehwan nodded sullenly. He so did not look forward to that conversation.

“Shall we?” Gwangsuk asked, tilting his head toward the door.

When they entered the restaurant holding hands, they were met with a visual and aural fete. Like starlit skies, dozens of sparkling diamond chandeliers floated above the heads of guests milling around with glasses in their hands. The sound of chattering and glass clinking rode on the underbelly of the soft jazz music that slow danced into their ears. Golden heels glided by and shined against the deep, royal red carpet. The long, silver draperies cascaded down the windows like waterfalls, speckled with light. This was far beyond Raehwan’s wildest and most extravagant dreams when Gwangsuk had said “dinner” earlier.

“Gwangsuk-ah,” Raehwan uttered quietly in awe. But the embarrassment quickly hit his face with a red burn. “You should have told me. I’m horribly ashamed of my outfit, and my sock…” Raehwan trailed off as the rest of his sentence had melted at the tip of his tongue. He was caught by the sight of Gwangsuk gazing at the scenery in front of them with unrestrained amazement. Gwangsuk’s irresistible charm had always glittered best from his doe-eyed beauty, Raehwan thought, and now flickering full in Gwangsuk’s eyes was the kaleidoscopic light reflecting from the chandeliers. So bright and pretty like stars of their own were Gwangsuk’s dancing pupils. Raehwan had to resist, with all of his will and with every fiber of his being, the magnetic pull that would have drawn him to Gwangsuk in the privacy of their moonlit dorm-room or the rooftop of their building on a summer night. Like a moth to a flame.

Gwangsuk finally spoke: “Heol.”

Clearly an eloquent, profound choice of expression.

Hands still clasped together, Raehwan gave an urgent little shake. “Yah, Oh Gwangsuk. I thought you said this was a “dinner” with Yoojung-sshi.”

"It is," Gwangsuk said with a nod, once he snapped out of his art fantasy reverie. “But also with the whole _Hit the Stage_ group plus their friends and whoever else important.”

“Oh my God.”

“Hey, don’t panic,” Gwangsuk soothed Raehwan. “Everything will be fine.” He flashed a bright, not-quite-reassuring smile.

Raehwan suddenly felt lightheaded. “I think I need to use the restroom.”

Gwangsuk’s brows perked up with concern. “Okay, let’s go.”

“No, no.” Raehwan shook his head. “I’ll be fine. You go to your friends. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

Gwangsuk’s eyes never left him. “Raehwan, if you don’t feel comfortable, we can go back home.”

“No.” That wouldn’t be fair to Gwangsuk, not after driving all the way here to a luxurious restaurant, more like ballroom, with a setting so gorgeous it lit up Gwangsuk’s eyes like stars. Gwangsuk’s white snapback and unzipped jacket made him glow with all that light bouncing off him. Even the bands of white on his candy cane striped shirt blazed bright. It was too pretty to let go, Raehwan figured, as he stared unhappily at their intertwined fingers. But this would not last either. Raehwan took a breath, displayed his best “I’m alright” face to pacify Gwangsuk’s concern, and finally released his hand.

“Call me if you can’t find me,” Gwangsuk said, hand-signing a phone to his ear.

Raehwan hummed. Gwangsuk was already that far away from him.

“Okay?”

Raehwan gave a nod and a faint smile. A thumbs up, too, for good measure.

Gwangsuk returned a lopsided grin, raising a quick, shy wave.

Once Gwangsuk had been engulfed by a crowd of his friends, Raehwan made a beeline for the restroom. It was down a narrow hallway with dimmer lighting. The plush carpet sunk under his footsteps and gave a little bounce to his frantic race-walk. “Oh, Raehwan-ah,” he spoke aloud, “what have you done, what have you done.”

He found the restroom and entered, nearly blinded by the aristocratic luxury of it. Polished marble floor, three white sinks, spotless mirrors, and glowing recessed lights in the ceiling. He found himself bent over the nearest sink, splashing cold water onto his face. Now that he thought about it, he really shouldn’t have done that. He had washed off his makeup. Raehwan whined loudly.

“God, I am such an idiot. I don’t deserve to be here,” he said. He took a breath, and ran a hand through his hair with a mean glare at the mirror. He leaned closer to get a good look at his eyes, reminding himself of Gwangsuk’s pretty windows to the soul back there. With a sigh, he stepped away.

“I’m in love again,” Raehwan admitted. “Yup.”

He shook his head and pointed at his mirror-self. “No, you are.

“God, nope, Raehwan, you are not going to do this again. You’re not going to spend an hour talking to yourself. You’re going to go back out there and enjoy yourself.

“Yes. That’s a good plan. I like that.

“Don’t forget to keep your eyes open for _anything_ suspicious. Gwangsuk came here to see Yoojung-sshi. There’s plenty of other good looking men and women who could sweep him off the floor from you.”

Raehwan nodded determinedly.

“Don’t blink, or else you’ll miss it,” he warned himself.

“Got it.”

He tucked in his socks as best he could to hide the mismatching embarrassment. The red sock still stood out to him, but he couldn’t bother himself enough to remove it and shove it in his pocket. Next, his hair. That needed some work. The fringe that came down over his eyes looked far too casual, so he obsessively combed his hair back with his hands. If only he had thought about this beforehand, he could have lightly gelled his hair up. Now his outfit would have to do, he supposed. He had on a black cashmere sweater, a pair of jeans, and white converse shoes. It wasn’t like he could change any of this drastically, except to roll up his sleeves or pull off his sweater to reveal his white, short-sleeved shirt. The latter idea was out of the question. Unless for some reason Gwangsuk wanted to borrow his sweater, then of course by all means.

Raehwan could not explain why his heart was racing when he emerged out of the hallway to meet the dizzying light once again. And then he remembered. He had to play _Where’s Wolli?_ to find Gwangsuk in the crowd of dancers and other celebrities milling around, chattering away. While Gwangsuk may have been wearing the iconic candy cane colors, he wasn’t exactly the tallest guy around which made the task that much harder. Raehwan also had an ego to stir so there was no way he’d be fishing his pocket for his phone any time soon. Despite all hindrances, it should be fine. Cakewalk, right?

Right. Thankfully, Raehwan ran into Howon, who was Gwangsuk’s closest friend, best man should Gwangsuk ever have a wedding in the distant future, and designated God-father of Gwangsuk’s children (which may or may not be kitties and puppies).

“Hyung-nim!” Raehwan greeted and bowed. He was relieved to see someone he knew.

Howon looked flustered but greeted in return. “Where are the others?” he asked, tugging on the lapels of his suit jacket.

Raehwan’s mind went blank. Others?

Howon raised a leveled hand in the air. “They’re about yea-high?”

“Oh!” Raehwan realized, smacking his forehead. He had totally forgotten he was part of a boy group called Bigstar. How embarrassing. He cleared his throat. “Sunghak’s in Spain with Sunwoo sunbae-nim at a football game. Cristiano Ronaldo. Can’t miss him,” he explained, rubbing at his reddening cheek. Howon smiled knowingly. “Donghyun’s hanging out with Punch. And Youngjun hyung is… you know…” Raehwan shrugged.

“I know,” Howon said. It was hard to read the expression on his face.

“Speaking of which, do you know where Gwangsuk is?”

Howon hummed. “Yeah, he should be over there.” He gave a head tilt in some vague direction behind him. “I’ll show you.”

Raehwan was mighty grateful.

As they walked there, Howon spoke up. “Aren’t you a bit under-dressed?”

Raehwan pulled at the collar of his sweater uncomfortably. “Yeah, Gwangsuk didn’t give me a heads up.”

Howon gave him a look. “Well, this is an engagement party for one of the producers of the show,” he explained calmly like a narrator of a documentary. They weaved in and out of small groups of people. “Contestants got invited, obviously.”

“Crews, too?” Raehwan asked. His legs felt like blocks of lead despite his internal flight response pinging frantically at the sound of “engagement party.” He was not prepared. At all.

Howon shook his head. “No. Most of the crews are considered to be the “plus-one” of the contestants.”

Raehwan halted in his tracks. That meant Gwangsuk had invited Yoojung and the rest of the dance crew that Gwangsuk had worked with as his “plus-one.” Raehwan really had no place in all of this.

“He’s right there,” Howon said. He clapped Raehwan’s back with a friendly smile. “Enjoy your evening, Raehwan-sshi.”

Raehwan blinked. “Wait, hyung-nim. You’re not going to sit with us?”

Howon shrugged. “I’ll join your table a little later. I wanna meet some of my other friends.”

Raehwan nodded slowly. “After today, if you run into Youngjun hyung at all, could you let him know that he was right? I really should’ve stayed in my lane.”

Howon looked confused, but promised he would deliver the message. He went on his own way, looking for better dressed friends.

In the meantime, Raehwan wished he could return to the restroom where he could probably take a nap in one of the stalls until Gwangsuk was done and wanted to leave. But Gwangsuk’s eyes locked with his, and Gwangsuk stood up from the round table gesturing at the only empty seat, next to Yoojung.

Great, just great.

On Gwangsuk’s right, among the other crewmembers, sat the lead dancer, Mamba Ari. His blond buzz-cut and smiling face was shadowed by his fedora hat, giving off a mysterious, yet amicable air to him. Yoojung in her knee-length, red satin dress sat on Gwangsuk’s left, her dark ponytail resting on her shoulder. She offered a smile and scooted the chair out for Raehwan.

When sitting beside her, he felt even more self conscious with eleven other dancers staring at him. “Hello, I’m Kim Raehwan,” he introduced himself, bowing his head.

“Lee Yoojung,” she said. Her voice reminded him of iced coffee and cherrywood with her low, cool, and calm tone. She had a sweet, youthful face, but her eyes gave him mixed feelings. They looked almost too intense to be kind, but the curve of her eyes, when she smiled, said otherwise.

Raehwan smiled. “Nice to meet you.”

“I like your hair,” she commented.

“Huh? Oh--” Raehwan laughed bashfully behind his right hand, while his left combed through the hair at the nape of his neck. “I honestly didn’t know this was an engagement party until Hoya-sshi told me.”

“Really?” Yoojung looked surprised. “Oppa didn’t say anything to you?”

Raehwan leaned back into his chair to give an icy glare toward Gwangsuk. “Nope. Nothing at all,” he answered sourly.

Yoojung turned to Gwangsuk. She gave a light slap on his knee. “Yah, oppa, he’s your best friend! Why didn’t you tell him?”

Gwangsuk stared innocently into the chandeliers as he rubbed a palm at the side of his neck. In fact, it was the same exact spot Raehwan had bitten him. “Huh,” Gwangsuk mused, “must’ve escaped my mind.”

Yoojung wasn’t satisfied with the answer, but she gave a sympathetic pout to Raehwan. “At least he’s not overly dressed either? So the both of you are matching.” She smiled brightly.

Raehwan could see why Gwangsuk’s friend, Hyojin, had thought Yoojung and Gwangsuk could get along.

“But it looks like Gwangsuk oppa can be mean sometimes,” she continued.

Raehwan agreed wholeheartedly. He persisted in a staring war with Gwangsuk while Yoojung went on.

“He called me “dark on the inside” once.”

Gwangsuk’s jaw dropped. “Hey, now, wait a minute--”

Raehwan gasped, nearly laughing. “Oh, Yoojung-sshi, it gets worse,” he told her. “I have so many other stories in which he’s done wrong.”

Gwangsuk had gotten to his feet and slapped a hand on the table, right in between Yoojung and Raehwan which startled them both. “To be discussed over many drinks,” Gwangsuk added. “At a much later time.”

“Excuse me!” Raehwan exclaimed. “We are bonding here!”

“By bitching and whining _about_ me? Right when I’m sitting here?”

“Yup,” Yoojung answered calmly. “Sit down, oppa.”

Gwangsuk sulked back to his chair while Yoojung and Raehwan laughed together.

This was actually nice. Yoojung seemed nicer than he had imagined. Some relief had washed over him, and he noticed Gwangsuk kept staring at him even in the middle of conversations with other friends. Every time their eyes met, Gwangsuk would smile or grin. Raehwan smiled back.

As dishes of food were served, Yoojung glanced between the two boys, then leaned toward Raehwan. She cupped her mouth with one hand. “Do you and oppa have a Thing?” she whispered.

What a perfect moment to blush and betray oneself to one’s feelings! Raehwan had no doubt his face was a shade too scarlet to not be noticed. “I, um-- We, uh-- I-- I-- I kind of--” Raehwan stammered by way of explanation. He bit his lip and wished very hard that he would just melt into the chair and cease to exist as a sentient human being. Maybe the life of a carpet wouldn’t be so bad. If things were going at the rate they were, he’d probably be just about as deep of a red as the floor. He’d only have to get used to being stepped on.

She passed him a clean, empty plate. “Don’t be embarrassed!” Yoojung said quietly, smiling. “You two are cute.”

Raehwan did not want to talk about this anymore.

“The thing is,” Yoojung also gave him his cutlery, “when I first met oppa at the café, he told me he wasn’t into anyone. We asked him if he was in a relationship to help give him inspiration or set the boundary for the choreography. The round was about love, after all. But since he said there was no one… That was that.” She shrugged nonchalantly, thinking Raehwan would find interest in this. Or perhaps it had been too shocking, considering Raehwan had gone entirely silent. “Raehwan-sshi, are you okay?”

Raehwan felt a light tap on his shoulder to his left and found another female dancer, with two sandy blonde braids draped over her shoulders, leaning toward him and Yoojung. Her name was Park Jihyo. “Are you talking about Gwangsuk oppa’s lover?”

Boy, did Raehwan’s head spin.

“Remember at that dinner, oppa admitted he _did_ like someone?” Jihyo asked. Yoojung shook her head ever so slightly. “It was kind of a drunk conversation. I’m pretty sure I heard someone ask if “she” was beautiful, and Gwangsuk oppa answered, “yes”!”

“We can’t count that,” Yoojung said. “It could’ve meant something else.”

“Well then, let’s ask him when he comes back,” Jihyo fired back.

It occurred to Raehwan that Gwangsuk had wandered off to talk to and take pictures with another group of friends. Now that Gwangsuk was gone, the dazzling, magical lights and the opulence of the entire place didn’t matter to him anymore. It all began to dissolve.

“But, Raehwan-sshi,” Jihyo continued, “are you two actually a Thing? Or is it like…”

Mamba Ari moved into Gwangsuk’s vacant seat. “Jihyo-yah, I remember that dinner. Gwangsuk specifically said he was dating someone at the moment.”

“And he wasn’t drunk?” Yoojung asked.

Mamba Ari hesitated. “I… am not sure.”

Jihyo perked up. “No, it was the other guy, on speaker phone. He said if Gwangsuk oppa was dating, it’d be with him!”

Raehwan crushed his lip in between his teeth. “And what was the other guy’s name? Lee Youngjun-sshi?”

“Hmm, maybe,” Jihyo said, playing with the end of one of her braids. “I don’t know.”

Mamba Ari stared thoughtfully at his phone. “There was another time I ran into Gwangsuk at a restaurant by the Han River. He was with a girl.”

“That’s Sumin-ah,” Raehwan said flatly. It had to be her.

Mamba Ari agreed. “So I thought Gwangsuk might be dating her. They looked really close with each other.”

Raehwan’s searing headache had reached just about that level where he wanted to flip the table over. He tightly brandished a gleaming knife in his fist and stared at the dishes in the center of the table with such a focus, laser beams _should_ have blasted through everything. He should ask them about the perfume he had found on Gwangsuk’s red shirt, but there was this other problem, too.

“Raehwan-sshi?” Yoojung called out to him, with concern.

Yoojung was his new friend. He should answer. He should explain that the shrimp and crab dishes did not sit well with him at all, because he hated them. In fact, he was _allergic_ to them. Raehwan fixated on that one lone dish of crab that happened to be Gwangsuk’s favorite. He truly had no place here, at Gwangsuk’s dinner table with Gwangsuk’s friends, or in Gwangsuk’s life at all.

“I’m, um.” Raehwan could not recognize his own voice. “I’m going to get some fresh air.”

The strangest thing happened when he left the venue and situated himself against the cool, brick wall next to the entrance of the grand ballroom. He sat in a crouching position, cheek smushed into the palm of his hand, mulling over how many times he had been cheated and how many signs he had seen but ignored. Then he heard footsteps that stopped in front of him. He knew it wasn’t Gwangsuk. Gwangsuk didn’t walk like that.

“Could I take a picture of you?” the person asked.

The voice was rich and heavenly. Raehwan could tell this guy was a singer. Raehwan didn’t bother to look at him, but he did give a listless thumbs-up. He didn’t care.

After a few snaps and flashes, the man gave a delighted laugh.

This should have caught Raehwan’s attention, but he was lost in the cars zooming down the street in front of him, feeling vulnerable and annoyed. Confused. Hurt. Hollow.

“I’ve never seen anyone capture that look in James Dean’s eyes like you have,” the man said.

This jerked Raehwan right out of his stupor, eyes flying fast toward the man standing before him, in contrapposto pose. His jaw dropped.

It was _Dean._

Raehwan couldn’t get himself to stand, or even say a word, to bow, nothing. He stayed frozen as Dean adjusted his dark glasses.

“The red sock is cute,” Dean commented, giving a nod toward Raehwan’s left ankle. And then he left, probably to join the extravagant dinner inside and sing a song or two to the happily engaged couple.

Raehwan stood up, tottering on his heels, and took a bus back the dorm. He would pack and leave with the intentions of Never and Forever.

 

_believe_rookies_(cher_refix).mp3_

Raehwan had fallen asleep in bed to a rerun of _Rebel Without A Cause_ playing on his iPhone. In his dreams, Plato had managed to waltz out of the planetarium untouched by all whizzing bullets, except for Jim’s arm around his shoulders. Jim kept laughing about something that made him wicked happy, and it was almost like he couldn’t keep his hands to himself, not with how he kept petting Plato’s hair and fiddling with the red jacket collar around Plato’s neck. Judy was nowhere in sight. So Plato could only gaze back, lovestruck, laughing along, though with an embarrassed grin Plato had an inkling that Jim’s delighted amusement had something to do with his socks. Raehwan wanted to get a closer look at Plato’s socks; it was specifically the color that intrigued him. Why did it make Jim laugh so much?

Raehwan only saw a flash of color-- red!-- before he woke up with a startle to the sound of a different voice echoing downstairs. It was definitely not his mother’s voice. Morning light blinded his eyes to which he quickly drew the back of his hand to shield them.

It had only been three days. Three long, insufferable days of locking himself up in his room of his mother’s home, miles and miles away from their dorm and that man named Oh Gwangsuk. Who was that stranger? He didn’t know.

His mother had a ceramics studio down the road where customers came in to buy hand- and custom-made pottery, if not take classes with her to learn the art of clay. He had brought his group mates to his mother’s home and studio several times, but there was always Someone who came by more often than the others. Every now and then, customers and students would stop by at the house to drop something off that they had borrowed from his mother, or pick up something his mother made. Raehwan should be used to this, people coming in and out of the house, but he also never stayed in his mother’s home for too long.

He could hear the clangs of the pot hitting the kitchen counter downstairs. His mother must have been making breakfast. “So good to see you! I was wondering when you’d come by,” he could hear his mother say, somewhat muffled. Raehwan groaned as he pulled back the covers and set his phone on the small side table next to the bed. The response of the visitor was drowned out by another clanging sound. Raehwan sat on the edge of his bed for several minutes, trying to listen to the conversation his mother and the visitor were having, gauging to see if it was appropriate for him to join them in his white underwear.

Probably not.

Raehwan sighed miserably. He dragged his feet to the closet to rummage around for some clothing. The sun was too bright for him to properly see how he was fitting the robe on. It was only after he pulled the sleeves across his arms did he realize he put it on backwards. No matter. He swung the door open and waltzed to the stairs, leg outstretched for the first step. That’s when he noticed he still had on the red sock. Any thoughts he had about the sock dissipated when Raehwan heard his mother’s voice clearly now.

“I don’t know, my child,” his mother sighed. “Raehwan takes things too hard on himself.”

A sympathetic hum came in response.

“Every time he holed himself up in his room, it was usually about grades, job interviews, or auditions. But that was when he was younger, you know.”

A spoon hit the edge of a plate or bowl. “What about breakups?”

The color drained from Raehwan’s face. Oh, shit.

His mother gasped. “Is Bigstar breaking up?”

“Oh, no, no, mother!” exclaimed the visitor. “Everything with Bigstar is fine. I meant…”

“Hold on a minute,” his mother interrupted. “Was he dating someone? My Raehwan? Dating a girl?”

“No, mother, believe me, he was not.”

His mother clicked her tongue. “It’s not that I’m against him dating anyone, but he tells me he never has the time. I hope the girl is okay, if there was one.”

A vague hum, this time.

“You should come down to the studio today. Classes don’t start until late afternoon,” his mother suggested.

“I will,” the visitor promised. “No chance at all that I could talk to your son, is there?”

Raehwan’s eyes widened. He should get back to his room. Make himself inaccessible.

“You could try,” his mother said. “He might still be in bed.”

Raehwan scrambled back up the stairs as silently as he could, even more conscious that he had worn the bathrobe backwards. The opening left his whole backside naked, clearly not an appealing sight to see.

As he slammed the door to his room shut, he heard his mother call out his name.

“Oh, he’s awake,” he heard his mother tell the visitor.

Way to go, Kim Raehwan. He slid the glass door to the balcony, shut it closed, and ran to the railing. With one survey he knew he could climb to the left side where the railing met a wall that was near the second-tiered roof. And then what? Raehwan had one leg swung over, shivering in the chilly breeze that washed his naked backside and caused his bathrobe to flutter out in front of him. Where would he go from here in his underwear and bathrobe? He considered the walk to his mother’s studio. It seemed like a very irrational plan that would only sound good to and could only be executed with a drunken mind. He was very sober right now. He wasn’t even sure why he was expending all this effort to just _avoid._ Raehwan knew he’d have to come face to face with it eventually.

Raehwan let out a huff of air and removed himself from the railing. He tossed his robe onto the bed of his room before shutting the glass door again. He would wait against the wall, staring out over the balcony at the tips of pine trees against the stark blue sky.

There was a soft knock against the door of his room, followed by a, “Raehwan-ah?”

The wait was killing him inside. It made him sorely isolated and vulnerable to the feeling of heat even as the breeze engulfed him with the early March cold.

Finally the glass door slid open from behind him, and he braced himself as he heard the footsteps cross the balcony.

“Hongje-dong?”

Raehwan regretted throwing his bathrobe inside. What did he do that for?

“Raehwan-ah, talk to me.” The husky voice was so tender, so inviting.

Raehwan could feel the tug in his gut, the unquenchable yearning to hug the life out of him, wrench the clothing off of him, rip the fabric thread by thread. His fingertips were burning, and his eyes were watering. He could not stop himself from looking, and Raehwan knew that a single glance could probably unravel him into one big weeping mess. “Oh Gwangsukie,” he said, testing the name. He could not remember the last time he went through a period without saying Gwangsuk’s name once aloud.

Gwangsuk stood in front of him, sadness glittering in his eyes. “Yes.”

“It’s so cold,” Raehwan whined pitifully.

“C’mere, my baby.” Gwangsuk gave that compelling, loving blink that was meant to persuade, but it really would not take much convincing to get Raehwan to accept Gwangsuk’s outstretched arms. “Why aren’t you wearing anything?” Gwangsuk pouted, hands falling through Raehwan’s hair, his warm cheek against Raehwan’s cold ear.

“I don’t know,” Raehwan wailed.

“Look at your goosebumps. Here.” Gwangsuk pried Raehwan off of him to offer his own red shirt. Underneath he had a white, long-sleeved graphic tee.

Raehwan sniffled when he tried to rub his tears away with the heels of his hands. He frowned deeply. He could guess where this might be going.

“You never take care of yourself,” Gwangsuk murmured as he gently pushed the cuffs of his shirt through Raehwan’s cold hands. The shirt snugly fit Raehwan’s shoulders as Gwangsuk carefully buttoned it from the collar down.

Raehwan watched, unable to quit the tears from slipping down his face and landing on the shirt. The drops of salted water seeped through, darkening the red. “Gwangsuk, stop.”

“Why?” Gwangsuk tilted Raehwan’s chin up so they could meet each other’s eyes.

Raehwan sighed. He looked toward the balcony, where birds flew from trees like they were fleeing for their lives. The rest of his tears he tried to collect with edge of his fingers.

“Tell me why you had to run away,” Gwangsuk implored.

Raehwan sniffled. “Part of me wanted you to chase me,” he said, wiping his red nose with his fist.

“Here I am.”

“But I also don’t get why you’re here.”

Gwangsuk looked hurt. “You know why I’m here. It’s because--”

“Don’t say it,” Raehwan cut him off. “Save it for someone else whom you actually love.”

“Kim Raehwan!” Gwangsuk exclaimed indignantly.

“Yes?”

Gwangsuk went silent, knowing full well that any thoughts he had were useless.

“You tell me what I was supposed to see at that dinner. Lay it all on me,” Raehwan demanded. “I’m giving you the chance to talk, because you always say that talking works.” Raehwan wandered over to the railing, where he placed his foot in between two rungs. He put his weight on it. “I was embarrassed and humiliated that you did not tell me it was an engagement party. It was also rude to the couple getting engaged, even though I did not get to greet them. Who knows if they saw me. You, on the other hand, could’ve gotten away with it, because you’re you, you’re Oh Gwangsuk. I’m not.” Raehwan turned to glare at him. “And don’t you dare tell me it was a joke. It wasn’t funny.

“And then I sit next to your friends, who were nice and welcoming. But why did I have to hear that kind of gossip about you? It hurt me, Gwangsuk. I did not know what to think.” Raehwan noticed creases and lines on Gwangsuk’s face that had never existed before. “Yes, I could have brushed it off since it was _just_ gossip. But it still disturbed me, because I’ve had my own suspicions as well. Nothing they said was far-fetched from the things I’ve thought about. Things like, “He’s cheating on me,” and “He loves someone else.”

“So,” Raehwan continued, “I had been thinking. I knew you would come eventually. Every time I imagined you coming to me, I thought I should ask upfront: What are we, exactly? You and me? What do I mean to you? But I also imagined your answer. How convincing your argument might be to prove your innocence. How fucking crazy I seem for suspecting you in the first place, despite the things I heard and saw, and despite that perfume on your clothing. This shirt, in fact,” Raehwan said, pulling on the collar.

“I feel like the whole world is spinning out of my control, every time I think I love you enough to ignore the way you hurt me. Maybe you’re just that cute. But you know how I’m like. I can’t live without control either.

“It’s like you made this entire thing a game that’s meant to tear me apart. I’m chasing you all the time, but I get nowhere. And I can’t play the game on you, because I don’t get to win against the master of push-pull at his own game. So you string me along, for however long you want, and I get the burn for it. But when I ask you to come to me, _for me,_ you do. So…” Raehwan shook his head with a scoff. “I don’t get it. It’s like I get everything and nothing at all, and it’s really frustrating. You don’t know how many _more_ times I wanted to lose myself in anger, but I also can’t stand the way you might look at me if I did. Like I’m scary, like I can’t control myself, like I can hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you, Gwangsuk. I promised-- I promised Youngjun-hyung I wouldn’t,” Raehwan stuttered, voice cracking high and soft and faltering.

The sunlight shined on Gwangsuk’s damp cheeks.

Raehwan clenched his fists. “Most of all, I’m afraid of the truth you’ll tell me when I demand it out of you, and I’m afraid I won’t believe a word you say. If you apologized, I think-- I think I could die from the guilt,” Raehwan said hoarsely. “I’m afraid I’ll get angry at you. I don’t think I can hold it any longer.”

“Hit me.” Gwangsuk’s sternness made Raehwan’s skin crawl.

“Not here, I can’t.” Raehwan eyed the railing of the balcony. It looked dangerously low and unstable all of a sudden. He could imagine all sorts of fatal accidents, and then he really would have to kill himself from living the rest of his life in guilt.

“But it was easy to punch Sunghak in the face?” Gwangsuk’s lips betrayed himself for a small smile.

Raehwan covered his face with a miserable laugh. “I should apologize to him.”

“You should.”

Raehwan squinted. “I see you, Gwangsuk. Don’t think you can get away with this. You just deflected, you know.”

Gwangsuk glared. “And you just gave a whole speech about how I couldn’t say anything without hurting you in some way, shape or form. But I did just make you laugh, so.”

With an eloquent curse, Raehwan knocked Gwangsuk’s head.

“There you go!” Gwangsuk said delightedly.

“I really will hit you.”

Gwangsuk leaned forward and whispered, “I’m untouchable, Hongje-dong.” He proceeded to stick his tongue out with a goofy, taunting noise.

“Oh, you, little--” Raehwan struck down on the crown of Gwangsuk’s head several times in a row.

Gwangsuk gave him a look of scandalized shock.

Raehwan’s laughter died when Gwangsuk bit his finger, and a shriek left Raehwan’s mouth instead. Even after Gwangsuk earned himself another knock to the head, he still cackled. “This doesn’t solve anything!” Raehwan scolded him.

“Yes, it does!” Gwangsuk countered. “Now you’re distracted enough to forget about kissing me.”

Raehwan was dumbstruck.

Gwangsuk hopped on his toes and happily displayed an exaggerated puking face, hands clutching his throat as he made gagging noises.

“Stop it!” Raehwan lightly smacked Gwangsuk’s mouth with his hand.

Gwangsuk looked really crossed now.

Remorse overcame Raehwan, and he cupped Gwangsuk’s face, thumbs tracing his cheeks. “I don’t know where you got that from. I swear to you I hadn’t even thought about kissing you,” he gently explained.

Gwangsuk’s gaze flickered toward Raehwan’s lips. “I know.”

Raehwan had always thought Gwangsuk’s full lips were deliciously plump and pink. What he would give to bite into them.

“I had briefly considered it,” Gwangsuk confessed, “while you were talking. But then you just kept on talking. I thought to myself, “Is he gonna shut up for a fucking minute or what?””

Raehwan flushed bright red. “You could’ve kissed me to shut me up.”

“Yeah, no, that’s not how it works.” Gwangsuk shook his head, edging away with a face of mild disgust.

Raehwan quickly apologized for suggesting such a preposterous idea in the first place and gave Gwangsuk a tight hug. He smiled against Gwangsuk’s neck. “I do appreciate you letting me finish.”

“Of course,” Gwangsuk crooned. “Talking does wonders with you.”

Gwangsuk’s arms slipped away from their warm cradle eventually, and Raehwan noticed that Gwangsuk had taken a step backward where a beam of sunlight illuminated him like a glowing angel. His cross pendant shined blindingly, but not as bright as the windows to his soul. Raehwan kept staring and staring at Gwangsuk, until his gaze grew blurry and his lips fell into a deep frown again. “Oh Gwangsukie,” he moaned with such heartache.

“Wae, wae, wae?” Gwangsuk asked.

Raehwan shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know why I love you so much,” he whined. “I’m going to cry.”

Gwangsuk grabbed Raehwan’s hand. “Okay, let’s cry inside where it’s warmer, Raebalri.”

Raehwan wouldn’t budge.

“Come on,” Gwangsuk said gently. He tugged on Raehwan’s hand.

“What would have happened if I told you I wanted to quit?”

Gwangsuk wetted his lips. There was an air of patience to him. “Well, we would need to talk, and we would have a very long talk discussing what is you want to quit.”

“If I said I wanted to quit you?”

Gwangsuk stared.

Raehwan stared back. “I’m being serious.”

“I know you are,” Gwangsuk said calmly. Without warning, he let out an impulsive banshee shriek that made Raehwan flinch. Then, he exhaled dramatically. “We are going inside, and you are going to get dressed in tears,” Gwangsuk instructed. “I have to go to your mother’s studio because I promised her I would. And you will call Sunghak, or even better, go back to the dorm to apologize to him in person. Then, you and I are going on a date. To the fucking beach, damn it, because I just thought of it.

“Some time in the long run, Raehwan-ah, I hope you would learn to love yourself just for the sake of it. And maybe then, you can finally see that I do love you. There are no tricks. You just don’t believe in how amazing and talented you are, because you’re constantly undermining and comparing yourself to me. I think you knew this already.” Gwangsuk got on his tippy toes and smushed his lips a long, wet smooch against Raehwan’s salt-stained cheek.

Their eyes held each other long enough for their surroundings to melt away.

“But after all of that is said and done,” Gwangsuk continued, his tone suddenly soft and sad, “and you still think otherwise-- you still think you should quit me, then I won’t stop you.”

“That would mean hurting you,” Raehwan pointed out, chin to his chest, fiddling with a button.

“I will be a heartbroken man,” Gwangsuk agreed. “But that doesn’t mean there’s no life after love. We can still be friends, which probably means more to me than anything else.”

Raehwan’s face broke into a wide, captivated smile.

“Is that a satisfying enough answer for you?”

Raehwan hummed with a smiling peck on Gwangsuk’s cheek.

“Aish, and he said he didn’t even think about kissing!” Gwangsuk complained, unable to contain the giggling when Raehwan encircled his arms around him for a waltzing hug.

They crashed into the glass door with a synchronized scream before finally emerging back into the warm sanctuary of Raehwan’s room. No one could possibly imagine what they did together on Raehwan’s bed.

(They fell asleep cuddling each other, duh.)

 

_escape_(the_piña_colada_song)_rupert_holmes.mp3_

Calm, sparkling aquamarine waves lapped the expanse of the soft, white sand. Every once in awhile that the water came rolling up the beach in its excited foam, a gust of a salty breeze would scoop up the sea spray and sprinkle it across the faces of Raehwan and Gwangsuk sitting above the waterline. It was all sunshine and peaches for miles. Seagulls glided to and fro, scavenging for treasure like swashbuckling pirates, squabbling dramatic scenes for their very own cinéma. Raehwan had expected these details to anchor down in Gwangsuk’s mind, if Gwangsuk weren’t already occupied with a different phylum in the animal kingdom. He was crawling after a crab that was skittering for its life. Gwangsuk let out a cackle.

Raehwan had wandered down, wading into the water to film a video on his iPhone. He came back up the sandy slope when he was satisfied, but watching the waves go back and forth, back and forth, licking up the sand, made him feel broody and pensive. “What does the future hold for us?” Raehwan wondered aloud, staring at the dark, cumulonimbus clouds looming in the distance.

Gwangsuk poked Raehwan in the ribs with the end of his stick, a branch he had picked up near a grove of trees further up the beach. Once he had captured Raehwan’s attention, he began to draw something in the sand. “I’ll tell you what the future is for us. It’s easy. History will repeat itself,” Gwangsuk narrated. “You will find yourself in some kind of altercation with Sunghak, and you, with your hyperactive and insecure head, will think I’ve eloped with somebody else. You’ll be haunted by a hallucinated image of us riding off into the sunset, and you’ll moan Shakespeare’s sonnets about heartbreak and lost love in your sleep. But don’t worry, you’ve already been alive longer than James Dean, so that’s a good sign.”

“Yah, I’ve already apologized to Sunghak. It won’t happen again,” Raehwan whined, shaking Gwangsuk’s shoulders.

Gwangsuk made a sound of disapproval. “Then, you’ll grow old--” The lines in the sand started to take a recognizable shape. Eyes, nose, lips. “And _bald._ From stress. I keep telling you not to stress yourself!”

Raehwan clicked his tongue in objection, then found himself giggling when he shoved Gwangsuk into the sand.

“Fucking--” Gwangsuk spit out, wiping his mouth of sand. He shot Raehwan a threatening glare which was quickly brushed off, because he had other high-ranking priorities. Determined to finish, he kept going. “Since you and Sunghak keep arguing, Sunghak will also grow bald.” Gwangsuk added another hairless head next Raehwan’s already bald, aging face in the sand. “Donghyun will have the most hair compared to all of us _combined,_ so he’ll get love calls left and right to star in famous shampoo ads. The kid will finally get his limelight!”

“You’ve got this all figured out,” Raehwan said, almost impressed.

“Yes, now, statistically, it is likely one out of the five of us will go bankrupt--”

Raehwan shoved him again.

“I don’t know who, I’m just saying!” Gwangsuk laughed. “Whoever it is will have to keep asking favors from Youngjun hyung.”

“Why, is he going to be rich in the future?”

Gwangsuk moaned in pretend awe. “Loaded.”

Raehwan rolled his eyes. “What if Youngjun hyung’s the one who goes bankrupt?”

“Then we’re fucked.”

Raehwan laughed, but also realized Gwangsuk was quite serious.

“Anyway,” Gwangsuk continued, “I think you and I are fated to meet once more even if we separate. If that does happen, what do you think we should do?” Gwangsuk took Raehwan’s hand and caressed it lovingly with his cheek.

Raehwan watched him, fondness blooming in his chest.

“No kissing,” Gwangsuk reminded him. His voice was muffled against Raehwan’s knuckles.

Raehwan listened to the waves tumble onto shore. Wind spirits fluttered playfully between them, causing their loose clothing and hair to be whisked around. With this passing breeze came the lovely scent of sea salt with a faint hint of marshmallow from Gwangsuk. Raehwan glanced at his single red sock lying on the sand beside his Vans shoes. "I was thinking of something else,” he said.

“Like what?”

Raehwan gave a dramatic pause, smiling wide. “Let’s have a drink of Maldives at Mojito.”

“That sounds good!” Gwangsuk yelled excitedly. They high-fived each other with a laugh, and Gwangsuk added a small cat and dog raising their glasses of Mojitos into his masterpiece of a sand drawing. “This is good. Very good.” He nodded slowly, then blinked. “Now where would this be? In China? Or in Japan? Even Lee Byung Hun sunbae-nim didn’t know.”

Raehwan smiled. “We’ll figure it out when the time comes. For now, though… ” He drew into the soft, damp sand, right beneath Gwangsuk’s drawing. “This is it. The end.”

“No!” Gwangsuk crossed it out violently with his stick. “It’s a happily ever after.”

“How do you know we’ll be happy?”

“Because,” Gwangsuk shook his gold “Be Positive” pendant in Raehwan’s face, “it’s the future!” He swatted Raehwan’s hands and wrote the ending he preferred.

“I’m going to be bald!” Raehwan complained. “I don’t think I’ll be as happy as you!”

“Fine, fine,” Gwangsuk conceded. He drew three lines sticking out of Raehwan’s bald head.

“What is that?!” Raehwan cried out incredulously.

“Your hair of happiness.”

Raehwan screamed unhappily about his fated three strands of hair remaining as a septuagenarian, when he tackled Gwangsuk into the sand. They wrestled each other down onto the muddy sand plateau at the bottom of the low slope, where the water brought in dead algae and small, white shells. Several mud-balls were flung in Raehwan’s direction, and just when he had grown bored and tired of it, Gwangsuk hit him square in the back of his head.

He stormed back up the beach with a semi-apologetic Gwangsuk sulking behind him. “I’m leaving!” Raehwan had yelled. He was _mildly_ fuming with a hand pulling through his hair for any leftover sand, muttering long strings of colorful phrases. The last thing he expected was to run into Sunghak and Donghyun casually strolling down the path. The kids weren’t supposed to come to the beach. Raehwan especially didn’t expect to see Sunghak at all, but there were no ill feelings between them anymore. Spain had been good to him, Raehwan noted. Sunghak looked rejuvenated-- his glowing, sun-kissed face said it all.

“Uh, we’re not here to crash your date,” Donghyun clarified. “We just, uh…” He scratched his head innocently and offered a cheeky grin.

Raehwan stared at the both of them. “Oh, you kids,” he said, steeling himself so he wouldn’t burst into sudden tears. He took Sunghak in his arms first and squashed him with a tight hug.

“Hyung, I can’t breathe!” Sunghak protested.

Raehwan released him with a watery laugh, then turned to Donghyun with wide, outstretched arms. He swore he wasn’t offering a Death hug that might potentially snap Donghyun’s body in half or anything.

But Donghyun shook his head in panic and took off. He dashed down the path, swerving around the swaying arms of the trees. He passed by Gwangsuk with a yell: “Run, hyung, run!”

“Hyung,” Sunghak spoke up, as he pulled out something from his backpack. “I brought you this.” Sunghak handed the plushy that Raehwan knew all too well. Kermit the Frog had never looked more lifeless than he did now, with his fur matted and discolored and his limbs barely held together by the loose, unraveling threads.

A small smirk crept onto Raehwan’s face. “Follow me,” he instructed. He and Sunghak proceeded to march quickly through the narrow trail, following Donghyun’s footsteps. It did not take long for Raehwan to cross paths with a mopey Gwangsuk.

However, before Gwangsuk could even utter a single word, loud barking from a runner’s dog cut him off. It sounded like it was laughing.

Raehwan didn’t give him a chance either. He raised the toy in Gwangsuk’s face, and in a mocking, Kermit voice, he taunted, “Catch me if you can.” And then he pressed on, without looking back. Sunghak gave an unhelpful shrug to Gwangsuk before following suit.

“Yah!” Gwangsuk called out. “Where are you going?”

Raehwan sped up his marching pace to a full sprint down to the water. The feeling of exhilaration overcame him, and the next thing he knew, he had chucked Kermit the Frog into the blue ocean. Raehwan heard the kids’ shocked gasps, followed by their peals of laughter. He also heard Gwangsuk’s horrified yelling not too far behind him.

Gwangsuk zoomed past Raehwan and dove after his toy. But Kermit got swept away.

Raehwan and the kids observed this spectacle with great amusement, as Gwangsuk hit the water with his fists, wailing for his plushy.

“Man, if only Youngjun hyung were here,” Donghyun said with a grin. Sunghak agreed.

Raehwan, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure. Whenever he thought of Youngjun, he remembered the promise he had made. He was supposed to watch the kids and never hurt them, but Raehwan knew he wasn’t doing a good job at it. He also wasn’t sure if he could ever redeem himself.

Not long after did Gwangsuk return to land, all wet and sad. His world had ended. He slowly lugged himself up the sandy slope, head hung low with water droplets running down his sullen face. His sleeveless tee and swimming shorts clung to him. Stopping in front of the three laughing boys, Gwangsuk directed his glare at Raehwan.

“What?” Raehwan bit down the urge to laugh.

“You’re dead to me,” Gwangsuk said. He shouldered past Raehwan in solemn silence, leaving behind a wet trail on the white sand.

Raehwan spent the rest of the afternoon chasing after Gwangsuk with promises that he’d never do such a thing again. He had a good heart and his intentions were mostly right, but as Youngjun had known, Raehwan struggled to keep these kinds of promises. Every time Gwangsuk turned down his apology, Raehwan became more convinced that their drinks of Maldives at Mojitos did await them in their future.

Later that night, when Raehwan returned to the beach to retrieve his forgotten red sock, he noticed Gwangsuk’s Happily Ever After had been washed away.

**Author's Note:**

> Support Bigstar!
> 
> **Youtube:** [Brave Entertainment Channel](https://www.youtube.com/user/bravefamily/videos)  
>  **Twitter:** Bigstar ([@BRAVEBIGSTAR](https://twitter.com/bravebigstar)), Baram ([@it_s__b](https://twitter.com/it_s__b)), Raehwan ([@larrynstudio](https://twitter.com/larrynstudio)), Feeldog ([@feeldog_bpnn](https://twitter.com/feeldog_bpnn))  
>  **Instagram:** Bigstar ([@bravebigstar](https://www.instagram.com/bravebigstar/?hl=en)), Baram ([@b10_08](https://www.instagram.com/b10_08/), [@its_s__b](https://www.instagram.com/it_s__b/)), Raehwan ([@larrynbeatz](https://www.instagram.com/larrynbeatz/)), Feeldog ([@fxxldoggssy](https://www.instagram.com/fxxldoggssy/), [@fxxlart](https://www.instagram.com/fxxl_art/)), Sunghak ([@xxhakx](https://www.instagram.com/xxhakx/)), Jude ([@judybegood](https://www.instagram.com/judybegood/))  
>  **Facebook:** Bigstar ([@bravesoundbigstar](https://www.facebook.com/bravesoundbigstar/)), Raehwan ([@larrynbeatz](https://www.facebook.com/larrynbeatz/))  
>  **V App:** [Bigstar Channel](http://channels.vlive.tv/E5B32F/video) (for their first v lives, you have to visit the [IDOL x IDOL Channel](http://channels.vlive.tv/FB973/video) and scroll through about 2 years worth of v live vids to find it at the beginning.)  
>  **SoundCloud:** Raehwan ([larrynbeatz](https://soundcloud.com/larry-beats-1)), Feeldog ([FxxlDoggssy](https://soundcloud.com/user-365773355)), Jude ([badboyjudy](https://soundcloud.com/badboyjudy))
> 
> If you missed it, here's the link to the [survey](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSfepQceLVtgprprmgsYtKVopp78ttf-nT3X6PjJ7KR0hE4g9w/viewform)!
> 
> CONCRIT IS WELCOME.


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